They were no sooner out of sight than three men sped from the shrubbery
across the yard, and, seizing Ted by the heels and shoulders, ran back
with him into the place of concealment.
As they threw Ted down on the grass none too gently, the pain brought
him back to life and wrung a groan from him.
When he opened his eyes he saw Stella sitting beside him trying to hold
his head from the ground.
Several men were there, too, lying flat, peering underneath the
shrubbery toward the house.
Every man was armed either with a rifle or a revolver, and occasionally
one or the other of them would fire a shot at the house, which would be
answered by the boys.
"They fire too high," muttered Ted to himself, "because they do not know
that these rascals are lying flat. Every ball goes a foot too high. Wish
I could let them know, but then they would probably hit Stella or me."
Lying beside him was Burk, the deputy marshal, his greenish-gray eyes
looking coldly at the house, and whenever he saw a chance for a shot his
rifle flew to his shoulder.
He became conscious that Ted was looking at him, and turned with a grin
on his face.
"So we got you at last, eh?" he said to Ted, with a sneer. "You thought
you could put this thing through because you are a deputy United States
marshal, did you? Well, you won't be a marshal much longer.
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